


It's Not Just Smoke and Mirrors

by avoiceisgraceandgreed



Category: Supernatural
Genre: All of our boys are very smart, Angst with a Happy Ending, Banter, Dean is hard to write, Discussion of the Biblical Creation, Dishonest Mary Winchester, Domestic, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Enochian-Speaking Sam Winchester, Family Bonding, Family Therapy, Gen, Guilty Mary Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, I wish I put more Cas in this, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jack is little and is still learning about the world, Jack may seem a little out of character, Loving Dean Winchester, Loving Mary Winchester, Loving Sam Winchester, NO Mary bashing, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Touching, Prank Wars, Protective Dean Winchester, Resurrected Mary Winchester, Sam Winchester Has PTSD, Sam Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Selfless Sam Winchester, Smart Dean, The boys can cook, Titles inspired by Imagine Dragons, Torture, Trauma From Lucifer's Cage (Supernatural), Which in this fandom translates to run of the mill ghost and monster hunts and all the in-between, and also a bunch of other languages, chick flick moments, i have no idea when this takes place, ie, they all are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21690313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avoiceisgraceandgreed/pseuds/avoiceisgraceandgreed
Summary: Anonymous fic request: when Mary is resurrected, she’s excited about Dean and gets to know Cas but doesnt seem super interested to talk to Sam.-------Summary: Mary doesn’t seem to be taking to Sam as well as she is to the rest of her boys. Sam thinks he knows why and, unfortunately, he may be right.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Jack Kline, Castiel & Mary Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Mary Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Jack Kline & Dean Winchester, Jack Kline & Mary Winchester, Jack Kline & Sam Winchester, Lucifer/Sam Winchester
Comments: 16
Kudos: 415





	It's Not Just Smoke and Mirrors

Sam knew he shouldn’t feel upset. He had been so little when Mom had died that there probably hadn’t been much of him there for her to get to know. Dean, on the other hand, was a thriving four year old with a personality that filled the room. Hell, Sam should have been giving them all the space they wanted, especially considering that Dean had had to lose her. Sam didn’t even know that Mom was blonde until he was fourteen, when he asked Dean if they had any pictures.

And of course it made sense that she was enthralled with Cas and Jack. They were angels, more powerful than anything Mom had seen before. Cas was one of the best people Sam had ever met (somewhere in the back of his head registered that Mary probably had no idea who Bobby was). He was kind and loyal and wise and dedicated and pure. He had saved both of them countless times. And Jack was… Well, Jack was Jack. He was a creature of learning and of love who had never had a mean thought. Dean, Cas, and Jack were forces of Good. Sam wasn’t. Sam was tainted.

Sam knew exactly what he was handing to Mom when he gave her Dad’s journal. A first-hand account of everything Sam had ever done wrong. The childhood disobedience, ditching his family for some fantasy, getting Jess killed, Dad’s suspicions that he was going to go dark-side. Even worse were the notes that Dean had continued to add to the journal for years after Dad died. Information about Sam drinking demon blood, starting the apocalypse, saying yes to Lucifer, the atrocities he committed when he was without a soul. The last item Dean had added to the journal was from five or six years ago, from when Dean had gotten out of Purgatory.  _ Sam was content to leave us for dead. I’m done.  _

Sam had handed that journal to Mom and she had given him a hug that he savored and committed to memory because he feared it was the only one he would get from her.

So far, he was correct. And that was okay. Mom shouldn’t have had to touch something so unclean more than she needed to.

  
  
  
  


“Let me get this straight. Downloading is taking something from the Internet and putting it in the computer.” Mary was sitting on the couch with Dean, laying against his shoulder with one of the skinny computers propped up on his legs.

“Right. It makes a copy and puts to copy in the computer.”

“So the information is still on the Internet?”

“Yep.”

“How do you t-d-delete?” Mary looked to Dean for confirmation and smiled when he gave her a nod. “Yeah, how do you delete stuff from the Internet?”

Dean knocked his head around for a minute. “Can’t be done. Least, not by any mortal means we have access to. There are probably a few government agents who could do it, or maybe some angel mojo, but all the Internet does it make copies of information. As soon as you put something out there, you lose control of it forever.”

Mary was baffled and amazed. The vast amount of movement of information...It was unthinkable. “How’d you learn all this, anyways?”

Dean chuckled, the deep sound humming through him. “Sam convinced Dad that some of our high school classes could give us an advantage in the field. Sam took law and bio, I took chem and computer science. And it worked, too. Those classes have saved our asses so many times. Sam loved it, too, ‘cause it meant that we stayed in the same place for a few months.”

Mary shifted. That didn’t really fit in with the Sam that she saw, who was antsy and trying to get everyone out of the bunker regularly. “Sam? Really? He seems pretty restless if you ask me.”

“Ah, well. He’s gotten more like that over the years. He used to hate this whole hunting thing. Was always tryna get us to settle down somewhere.”

“What was he like growing up?

“Oh, Sam? A goddamn genius. You know that he started talking at eight months? It barely missed you. His first word was my name,” Dean said with a quiet smile. “After that, it was practically impossible to get him to shut up. He was always taking everything in, you know? Never missed a detail. He was sweet as hell, too. Those puppy eyes he’s got? He’s been using that since he was, like, three.”

Mary laughed. “Did you buys get along?”

Dean snorted. “As well you’d expect. He was usually bitching at me to clean up my crap, I was bitching at him to sit still for lessons– Oh, gods, lessons were exhausting!”

Lessons? That could mean a number of things. What–

“Man, you’d think a nerd like him would be more willing to sit down and listen, and there was so much he needed to know! How to fix Baby, how to make bullets, reading Latin, reading  _ English _ , the Talk, how to sweet-talk receptionists and teachers, how to forge signatures and run credit card scams– As soon as we took those classes I told you about, I taught him as much chem and computer science as I could, and he taught me a bunch of law and bio. The computer science and law comes in handy for obvious reasons, but chem and bio make it so you can think on the fly. You can build a bomb out of kitchen supplies or stop someone from bleeding out by giving them the right thing to eat. And, hell, it is so damn convenient to be able to synthesize your own drugs. Sam knows a bunch of languages, too. I know Latin and Japanese, but Sam’s Latin is flawless, he’s got Spanish and ASL down pat, and he’s literally fluent in Enochian.”

“...Enochian?”

“It’s the language of the Angels. Tough as hell to understand, but he had a lot of time to learn, so I try not to be discouraged that I haven’t gotten it as good as him.”

“How long has he been learning? Cas taught him but not you?”

Dean winced visibly and Mary frowned. That was definitely a red flag. “Dean?”

After a moment of pause, Dean shifted and spoke, his voice a little lower. “How much do you know about what we’ve been up to?”

“I think most of it. He gave me your dad’s journal to read over.” Mary watched as Dean winced again.

“He did?”

Mary shifted uncomfortably. “I won’t lie, some of the stuff I read in there has me spooked. To think that my squishy little infant could one day do...that. But it’s...Well, it is what it is.” She watched Dean carefully. Her oldest was clearly running some equations that Mary couldn’t see. “Anyways, where’d he learn?”

Dean swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing under sun-worn skin. “Time in the Cage moves differently than up here. Now, Sam’s physical body was running around topside, but his soul was still stuck in the Cage for a year in our time. It’s rough, but we think he was in there for at least a hundred-fifty.”

Mary gaped for a minute, mouth moving aimlessly before she managed to utter, “Years?”

“Yeah. It was...Yeah. Michael and Lucifer both spoke Enochian. Apparently, Lucifer didn’t allow any other languages. Sam had to do a lot of quick learning those first few years. He still likes the language, though. Thinks it’s graceful or something. Of course the nerd in him would win over, right?”

Mary giggled, taking Dean’s invitation to end that particular topic on a more positive note. 

“So, what have you and Sam been up to?” Dean asked, and Mary faltered at the question.

“What do you mean?” she responded with a confused smile.

“Oh, c’mon. We’ve all been trying to get a piece of you. You and I are chatting half the day away, Cas is taking you places, you and Jack go shopping for clothes… What have you and Sam been getting up to?”

The question gave Mary pause as she ran through the past few weeks.. What  _ had  _ they been up to? She remembered the numb shock that crossed Sam’s face when she had busted into that dungeon of a basement. She remembered how Sam had stared at her with stress and awe as she placed down the takeout. She remembered the amused looks they had exchanged as Dean dug into his pie. She remembered how nervous Sam looked as he met her in her room and handed her the Journal. How tense he was in her arms.

The next morning, a gorgeous breakfast was laid out in the kitchen. Red chilaquiles and fried eggs. Sam handed Mary a plate with a tentative smile and said good morning. Mary returned the sentiment, thanked him for the plate, and moved to sit in between Cas and Dean at the table. After the first bite, she had given her compliments to Dean for the marvelous flavor. Dean had laughed and told Mary that, for once, Sam was the genius behind the meal.

For some reason, the flavor seemed to fall dead in her mouth.

Since then, Mary hadn’t really hung out with Sam much. He invited her on his morning runs, grocery shopping, to the library, to see a movie with current special effects. But Mary always felt too tired. She joked that she  _ had  _ just come back from the dead, after all. Sam always laughed and left her to it.

Of course, when Dean invited her to see the new Star Wars movie (that was still a thing?), Mary just couldn’t say no. A vein of guilt pricked through her, but she dismissed it. If Sam was really all that upset about not hanging out with Mary, then wouldn’t he have been a little more eager? Besides, Sam couldn’t even remember her. He probably didn’t care much about meeting someone he never knew!

“Oh, I don’t know...Sam hasn’t seemed all too excited to get to know me.”

“What?” Dean frowned, confusion forefront in his eyes, but with something a little more dangerous glinting towards the back… 

Mary shrugged. “I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter. I mean, he and I...It’s not the same as with you and me. He didn’t know me enough to miss me, you know? I can’t expect him to be as enthusiastic as you are.”

Dean’s face fell. “Oh, Mom, that’s not it. That’s not it at all. Sam missed you so much. Once he started asking me questions about you, he didn’t stop. He...I always sung him  _ Hey, Jude _ to get him to sleep, you know that? When he was around six, he asked me if I made up that song and I told him that you used to sing it, and...his face got all teary… Sam being Sam, he just asked every question he could think of. Your favorite color, how you met Dad, who your parents were, where you grew up… I did my best to answer his questions; Dad never talked about you much, but he had some stuff. I dug up a picture for him when he was fourteen. A picture of you. He got all surprised ‘cause he always imagined that your hair was darker…” Dean swallowed, cutting of a voice that was trembling more and more as it went on. “Yeah. He missed you, Mom. More than he realized.”

Mary pressed her eyes against Dean’s sleeve, letting the coarse fabric steal her tears away before they could fall. “Sounds like a sweet kid,” she murmured. 

“The sweetest. You never tell anyone that I said it, though.”

Mary laughed softly. “I’ll cover you.” A beat. “Should you get to bed? It’s a little late…”

Dean wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hairline. “Yeah, okay, Mom.”

  
  
  
  


“Wait…” Lucifer pinched the end of one of Sam’s ribs, exposed at his back after his body was skinned down to nothing. “I know air normally goes  _ inside _ the lungs, but messing around a little won’t kill you, isn’t that right, Sammy?”

“Don’t call me that!” Sam bit out. Immediately, the temperature dropped twenty degrees. He tensed, regret burning in his stomach. Stupid move. In one fluid movement, Lucifer dug his arms between his ribcage and lungs on either side of his spine and pulled up. Sam choked as his ribs snapped in twenty-four places.

“What was that, Sammy?” Lucifer made his way to Sam’s front and grabbed his chin. Sam grunted as the movement pulled his skin against the rope pinning his neck to the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“S-Sorry. ‘M sorry.”

“Not making eye contact during a conversation is rude, Sammy. Now let’s try that again. What was that?”

Sam pried his eyelids open and dragged his gaze up to meet Lucifer’s. “I’m sorry.”

Lucifer patted Sam’s cheek with one hand and dropped his face from the other, leaving his chin to hit the ground hard.

“Oh, look, Sammy!” Lucifer crouched over Sam’s head and reached over him to play with his ribs. Sam groaned as he pulled at them, causing his flesh to stretch and tear and his lungs to burn from exposure to the open air. “If you pry them apart, they kinda look like wings!”

Lucifer gyrated his hips obscenely and Sam wrinkled his nose.

“I’ll be honest, this makes you look even sexier than usual. You down for a few rounds tonight? Kidding, you don’t get to choose. But Sammy, kid, hot damn do you look gorgeous!. Now, what do you say?”

Sam glanced up at Lucifer, feeling a little lost. Normally, it was a bit more clear as to what Lucifer wanted.

Lucifer grabbed his hair and pulled his head off the ground. His breath was warm against Sam’s face as the Devil hissed into his ear. “I gave you a pageant-worthy make-over. I made your filthy, disfigured body pretty. What do you say, Sammy?”

Sam’s jaw trembled. He understood now. “Th-Thanks. Thank you.”

“I wish Dean were down here. He’s a real heartbreaker. You’re, y’know,  _ cute _ , I guess, with the whole puppy-eyes deal and that perky little ass.”

Sam wilted. A memory of Pamela drifted close.  _ “I couldn’t miss you, not with that perky little ass of yours. You could bounce a penny off of that thing.” _ Sam struggled not to let the Now touch it. He didn’t want another memory ruined.

“Hell, if it weren’t for the size of your package, it’d be pretty easy to believe that you were the same seventeen year-old traitor who hopped off to Stanford. Don’t get me wrong; I really appreciate having your dick around. But Dean was just oh-so  _ delicious _ . You know why?”

Sam held his breath, scared to hear the answer. A kick in his ribs knocked it out of him.

“Ask me why, Sammy.”

“Wh-Why?” He winced at the tremor in his weak, weak voice.

Lucifer bent at the waist to lean over Sam like he was a child. “Because Dean is pure. He’s a righteous man, and there’s something about breaking a genuinely good soul that’s just  _ so _ much more satisfactory than getting to play with a poisoned soul. It’s more fun to tear down someone who really doesn’t deserve it. I get to watch them fall from a great height at my own hands. That’s why you’re kinda boring, Sammy. No offense, but there ain’t that much work for me to do on you. You already know how rotten your soul is. You know you’re worthless, dirt in Dad’s eyes. 

“Did you know,” Lucifer drew himself up to the height of his vessel and began pacing around Sam. “That I used to be Dad’s favorite? Over Michael and Anna and Gabriel and poor Castiel, I was his top dog. Then came along you sons of bitches–” A kick in Sam’s side. “–and I got pushed back to second place. Because you all were supposed to be  _ better _ . Creatures of Good, more pure and sweet than anything God had ever created before. He built you a universe, a kingdom of life and beauty and depth. He wrote entirely new Laws of physics just so he could gift that to you. Then he planted Michael on Earth in that delicately spun form and invented Eve to give to him––if I’m being honest, I think I’m a hell of lot more sane than that bitch––and that  _ really _ pisses me off because Michael was the  _ only _ one of us to get his own body. The rest of us had to make do with vessels as Michael flaunted around with his little family and started the population of Earth. Just six thousand years later and your creative little souls have figured out how to use Dad’s Laws to make your own shit. Computers and cameras and rockets––crap that let you whores do what should have been impossible for you to do. Hell, the angels were never capable of that. We could never think the same way because Dad made you different. He gave you that gift of thought and we all mourned it once we realized it was something that existed and was something that we would never have. Just because God didn’t trust us with the same toys.”

Sam flinched as cold flesh draped over his body. Lucifer’s legs settled between his own and his hands fell into his hair, playing with it as he breathed against the back of Sam’s neck. “You know where I was the entire time? Down here, in the cage. I could only glimpse it, catch bits and pieces of a beauty that I could never see, but I could hear my brothers and sisters and the fallen humans as they spoke of it. I didn’t get to see Dad’s creation flourish like everyone else. Never got to experience it. But you? Little Sammy from Nowhere, U.S.A.?” Sam grunted as Lucifer drove a knee into his crotch and wrapped a hand around his throat. “You did. And you fucking threw it away.”

In one swift movement, Lucifer was inside Sam. He grunted and inhaled sharply as his breath stuck painfully inside his chest.

“It was all yours for the taking.” Oh, this was not good. Lucifer had been mocking and bitter before. But now, his voice was colored with violence and enmity. “Sometimes I wonder if you were supposed to be Dad’s golden boy alongside Dean. You think maybe he saw that you were going to give him trouble? I bet he did something to stop it. He gave you a loving mommy and daddy, which maybe didn’t turn out as picturesque as it could have, but they protected you and that sure as hell is more than I ever got. My Father gave you a good mind and a hopeful heart and it was enough for you to pray every time the sun set. You prayed to him that the little soldier boy who raised you, the literal embodiment of righteousness, would be safe. My Father gave you  _ Dean _ , who stood by your side even as you fell. He did everything he could to keep you from falling and when he couldn’t do that, he helped you hit the ground gently. You had so much potential to be  _ pure _ and  _ whole _ like your brother. You had every opportunity and you  _ still _ manged to  _ get it all wrong _ . You know what I would have done if I had gotten what you had?”

Sam’s stare was dull as tears dripped lazily from his eyes.

“I would have sung praises of gratitude and held onto every last bit of joy with everything I had. I would  _ never _ have thrown that away. How does it feel to know that you’ve disappointed Dean and God alike? How does it feel to know that you’ve become the pariah of your race? How does it feel to know that you’re worse than me? More foul than the Devil?”

The ground numbed his skin. The throbbing pain was dull. His eyes dried. There was nothing. Everything was the same.

Lucifer patted his shoulder gently. “I’m sorry, bunk-buddy. Saying it so bluntly was a little harsh. Normally I euphemize a bit more.” Fingers trailed back and forth over the ravaged flesh, almost in a gesture of comfort. “What do you say I make it up to you?” The Devil pulled out of Sam and moved down. Tickling on the inside of his thigh as Lucifer licked a stripe up his skin and prodded his sphincter.

“The  _ taste _ of you, oh,  _ Sammy _ –”

There was nothing. The beloved name with which Dean had teased him was ruined. The memory was ruined. He ached with the final loss and rested his cheek on the cold ground.

There was nothing.

There was nothing.

  
  
  
  


The room was cloudy. Sam stared at the ceiling for a solid fifteen minutes before realizing that he was awake, and even then he lay still for at least an hour while he let the residue of shock and impurity fade enough for him to move.

The cotton blanket rustled beneath him as he shifted and sat up. He did so carefully, fearing that he would find a pain in his backside, and breathing relief when there was none.

Gods.

When Mom walked by his door, her humming just audible through the heavy iron door, Sam perked up. The nightmare had been horrendous, but the night was over. It was a new morning and Dean and Cas and Jack were alive and his  _ Mom _ was  _ alive _ . And he was alive and they all loved him enough to share him in their home without regard to his taint. Today could be beautiful. Sam wasn’t going to waste that.

  
  
  
  


Dean watched carefully from his doorway as Sam approached Mom in the hallway. He seemed tired but happy, with his jacket laid over his arm and a hopeful smile painting his face. He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Morning–”

Mary jumped a foot, pivoting mid-air to face Sam. “ _ Jesus _ !”

The dorky smile that had hung on Sam’s features melted away and guilt seeped into his eyes. “S-Sorry. I didn’t mean to–”

The tension in Mary’s shoulders evaporated. “It’s fine, Sam. I’m just jumpy, you know that.” Her words were brittle coming out of her mouth. If Dean didn’t know any better, he would think that Mom was annoyed.

Sam chuckled softly, apologetically, nervously. “Sorry. I’ll try to remember.” He hesitated. “U-Um, anyways, I was going to ask you, I’m going out to grab coffee for everyone in a few minutes, if you wanted to come?”

A sly smile came over Dean’s lips. He was glad to see that Sam was finally approaching Mom. She would love this.

“Sorry, Sam, Dean asked me to help with breakfast. I think he’s trying to upgrade my cooking skills.” Mary’s voice was laughing and Sam snorted with a soft smile. “Hey, with any luck, it’ll be ready by the time you get back. And, thanks for the coffee run, Sam.” She squeezed his arm and wandered towards the kitchen, her light footsteps a murmur against the concrete floors.

The exchange almost seemed sweet, but Dean knew for a fact that he hadn’t asked Mary for help in the kitchen. Sure, he had thought about them all working to help her learn her way around la cocina, but definitely not at a real mealtime. Every inch of the bunker was filled with herbs and chemicals, some just sitting in storage, some placed deliberately for emergencies, and the kitchen was no exception. One mixed up ingredient could result in cursed batter or poisoned fried rice. 

Sam looked down at his hands and bit at his lower lip, eyebrows scrunched in a bad way. Dean knew that look, the kicked-puppy look. 

“Sam?” Dean called. Sam shot up, eyes quickly settling on Dean.

“Yeah?”

“C’mere real quick?” Dean jutted his head towards his room. He caught a glimpse of Sam’s confused face before he turned and moved through the doorway. He sat on the edge of his bed and glared at his hands until Sam was settled next to him, his jacket laying on the blanket. 

“Hey, I just talked to Mom, I think she’s waiting for you in the kitch–”

“I heard, Sam.” Dean cut him off. “I heard. That’s the problem.”

Sam shifted. “What is?”

“I didn’t ask for her to help me out with breakfast.”

“Sh-She didn’t?”

Dean shook his head. If possible, Sam’s expression fell even more. “So why–”

“I don’t know.” He took a controlled breath in. “Has this happened before?”

“Has what happened before?”

“You ask Mom to come do something and she turns you down?”

“W-Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean–”

“Zip it, Sam. I think we both know that, whatever the hell she’s doing, it’s deliberate.”

The air hummed quietly.

“Okay, get up,” Dean ordered.

“W-What? Dean–”

“We’re gonna go get coffee. You and me, just like old times.” He picked up Sam’s jacket and draped it over his broad shoulders, helping his little brother into the sleeves.

“But what about–”

“Mom? Yeah, we’ll talk about this  _ after  _ breakfast. I need my Captain Crunch before I go all Judge Judy on her ass.”

Sam snorted. “Okay, Dean.”

  
  
  
  


The passenger window hummed against Sam’s skull, making his teeth vibrate in a pleasantly soft way. The bass line of Dean’s ACDC tape thrummed alongside. Dean stared ahead devoutly and Sam knew something was up. His brother could safely drive this car anywhere with his eyes shut, and he was always looking all over the place. Whether that was because of Dean’s natural curiosity or of the well-ingrained paranoia forcing him to remain observant, Sam couldn’t be sure, but it was more than enough for Sam to know that Dean was deliberately keeping his gaze turned towards the front. He was giving Sam privacy. 

“Last night was bad,” he said softly.  _ Thank you. I trust you.  _ The message came through clearly to Dean, obvious in the affectionate tilt of his head and his flickering gaze.

“Yeah?” Dean returned, just as quiet.  _ I’m here, but I won’t push _ .

“Yeah.” Sam swallowed. “Have you forgiven me?”  _ I feel dirty. Do you think I could be clean? _

“Yeah, for everything.”  _ You are clean _ . “It don’t matter if there’s someone else who hasn’t. They’re not me and they don’t know you.”  _ Lucifer is wrong. Mom is wrong. Trust me. _

Sam’s eyes watered. Dean snapped his gaze back to the road, returning Sam his privacy with the change in circumstance. Sam wanted to reach out and grab the sleeve of Dean’s jacket. It felt like touching him could make him clean. Dean could wash over Sam and make him clean. But what if it didn’t work like that? What if Sam just made him dirty?

A split second of deliberation convinced Sam to shift imperceptibly closer to Dean, and even the slight change in proximity helped him to breathe a little easier. It was enough for Dean to Dean lift his right arm slowly and precisely to fall over Sam’s shoulders and to pull him into a small lean. Sam knew what Dean was asking. The idea of it gave Sam pause and he hesitated, but Dean’s grasp tightened around his arm. Sam relented and let his brother close. His head fell over Dean’s shoulder. And just like that, the brothers melted, their bodies pressed together with a familiarity made natural by memories of naïve fear and anger. The brothers were as they were as children.

  
  
  
  


Sam breathed in the fresh air gratefully. Dean couldn’t help but smile quietly at the glistening light in his eyes. It had been so long.  _ It had been so long. _

“It’s nice out today.” Sam smiled at the horizon of leafy green against pink and blue, his free hand grasping the top of the half-opened passenger door. “We should go out.”

Dean rolled his eyes fondly and cracked his door open, the second tray of coffees balanced in his right hand. “You always want to go out.”

“That’s because we never go out enough!”

“Alright, Hopscotch, we’ll go out. Jack’s been wanting to go out, too. I’m thinking the zoo.”

“The zoo?” Sam gave Dean a weird look and the brothers slipped into the car. Dean handed Sam his tray without looking and started the car.

“Yeah, I think he needs it. The kid saw a cat the other day and freaked. He thought it was some supernatural creature that he didn’t know about. He came running to me yelling questions about methods of killing.”

Sam laughed. “How did I miss this?”

“You were holed up in the library doing research on Yuma like a freakin’ nerd.”

“Hey, hey! You asked me to research that for the hunt!”

“Doesn’t change anything. You’re still a nerd.”

“Gods, you’re insufferable.”

  
  
  


When they pulled up to the Bunk, Sam had to pull in a breath.

“It’s going to be fine.” Damn, nothing ever got past Dean, did it. “We’re gonna go in there and have a freakin’ amazing breakfast––you and I are cooking, Gods forbid the others touch any part of the kitchen––and then we’re gonna go all Enya and play family therapy and we’re gonna figure everything out. We good on that?”

Sam threw his brother a grateful smile. “Yeah, Dean, we’re good.”

They walked into the kitchen together and saw Mom, Cas, and Jack lounging at the table.

“Dean!” Mary beamed at her eldest and Dean pushed down the hint of bitter that threatened to rise.  _ Be objective. Work the problem. _

“We’ve been waiting on you! Do we want to get started on breakfast?”

Dean laughed. “I hope none of you touched anything in the kitchen. Sam and I are gonna have to train you before you do any cooking.”

Mary shifted and looked briefly to Sam, whose gaze skittered to the coffee.  _ Busted. _

Half an hour later, the boys were dishing out tanuki udon and sausage to their family. Dean took a seat next to Cas. Sam moved to sit next to Jack and Jack wrapped him in a hug as best as he could with his spindly arms. Sam seemed surprised but pleasantly so as he pulled Jack tighter to his chest.

The kid pulled away, cheeks slightly flushed. “I haven’t seen you in a few days. Thanks for breakfast.”

“Missed you too, Jack.” The love in Sam’s eyes when he looked at the kid was pure and made Dean ache with his own love.

  
  
  
  


Dean pulled Mary aside after breakfast with a gentle hand on her arm. “You and me and Sam need to talk, I think you know what about.”

Mary glanced down at his hand. “Dean–”

“We’re not mad. No one is mad. This is confusing for all of us and we want to get it all figured out.”

“...Sam?” 

Dean saddened at his Mom’s tone. “He’s not mad, either.”

Mary shook her head. “No, no, I didn’t think he’d be mad. Is...Is he upset?”

Dean hesitated and the answer was enough. Mary sighed and hung her head and he hurriedly intervened. “It’s not bad, promise. He just...Sam has a hard time liking himself sometimes, alright?”

“And when I blow him off he thinks it’s because of him.”

“Is it?”

Mary’s eyes flicked up almost wildly. “What?”

“Is it because of him?”

Mary bit the inside of her cheek. “It’s not his fault, I just...With everything you two have been through…”

Dean exhaled through his nose and glanced away before turning his gaze back to Mary, running his hands down her arms. “It’s okay. We’re gonna talk about it, figure this thing out. I wanted to ask… Do you feel like Cas and Jack need to be there or do you want them away?”

Mary’s head bobbed as she locked eyes with Dean. “They deserve to be there. It’s their family, too.”

Dean smiled. “Okay, then. Jack’s room in five.”

  
  
  
  


Dean had thought about it carefully. They needed to be comfortable and close, which ruled out pretty much every main room. Sometimes Sam’s room just felt  _ bad _ . Mom was already scared of Sam and being in his space, where Sam had experienced some very intense things, wasn’t going to help any. Dean’s room was a similar case. Cas’s room looked like a prison and Sam would feel uneasy about invading Mom’s space. 

Jack’s room had zero of those problems. Jack was comfortable with everyone and everyone was comfortable with Jack. He had a full-sized bed (the largest in the bunk) and had soft blankets everywhere from the adults impulse buying them specifically for him. Soft lamps sat at the corners of the room and on top of furniture, chasing away the sharp glare of the Bunker’s lighting with their warm glow. Fiction books were stacked against the walls and Jack’s colorful paintings and photos hung scattered above.

As Claire had put it when she dropped by with Jody a few months ago to meet the boys was was effectively her brother, the room had “good vibes.” Dean couldn’t even argue the choice of words.

Dean settled on the side of the bed closest to the door and Sam sat to his left. Jack lay back against the headboard. Cas sat to Jack’s right and Mary sat to Sam’s left.

_ Here goes nothing. _

  
  
  
  


“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“It’s not me you should be saying that to.”

“No– Dean, she doesn’t have anything to apologize for. Mom, you don’t have to apologize.”

“She’s been lying to you.”

“Because I’ve been pushy!”

“Sam, it’s not “pushy,” as you put it, to want to spend time with your mom.”

“No, it is, because I knew that I made her uncomfortable and I kept trying to be around her anyways–”

“Mary, is that true? Does Sam’s presence bother you?”

“...Well…”

“See?”

“Now, wait a second–”

“It was the Journal, wasn’t it.”

“Jack?”

“Sam gave Mary the Journal. I watched him from the staircase. He went in with the Journal and came out without it.”

“Sam…”

“No, no. Look. I knew exactly what I was giving her. I knew it was bad but Mom deserved to know, even if it risked making her scared of me. I can’t be angry about it happening when I knew it was a possibility.”

“You’re scared of Sam?”

“It’s not that, sweetheart–”

“It is, though. Why are you scared of him? Is it Lucifer?”

“Jack–!”

“Yes. And everything else.”

“I...don’t understand. Lucifer is my father and you’re not afraid of me.”

“That’s not your fault, Jack. Sam’s situation was a little bit different.”

“Are you insinuating that Lucifer was Sam’s fault?”

“Well, not exactly, but–”

“Lucifer wasn’t anybody’s fault but Chuck’s, cut and dry. Even before we knew about Chuck, Sam was forgiven. Clean slate. Can we move on now?”

“Dean, I don’t think blame is the root of the problem here. It isn’t Mary’s fault that she’s afraid of what happened with Sam, even as she recognizes that it wasn’t his fault.”

“It wasn’t just Lucifer. Everything with the demon blood and Ruby and leaving Dean in Purgatory… It was just...a lot.”

“Dean.” 

“I-I know it’s wrong. But the thought that the Sammy I left behind got contaminated by  _ demon blood _ of all things, and it brought on all...this…”

“Sam?”

“I’m good. I’m good.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Okay, yeah. Not good.”

“Sammy? Are you okay? Is he okay? Did I…?”

“Jack, can you take him outside?”

“Yep. Come on, Sam, I want some water.”

“Be nice, Dean–”

“Zip it. You’re taking a walk.”

“...”

“You can’t call him Sammy. And you do not use any words remotely close to contaminated, dirty,  _ nothing _ . Not under any circumstances, ever. We clear on that?”

“Triggers?”

“Those are the big ones.”

“A word of advice; Sam appreciates physical contact, but be obvious about it. He and Dean are close enough that Sam can tell it’s him without looking, which can’t be said for the rest of us.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I kinda blew up on you there. I’m not mad, it’s just…”

“Sam was in pain.”

“Yeah.”

“Dean, you should figure out how to make the tap warmer.”

“What? What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s so cold my teeth hurt. Sam agrees.”

“You’re an archangel. Use your mojo.”

“But I don’t want to!”

“Why the hell not?”

“Doing stuff us hard.”

“Not for you it isn’t. Siddown.”

“Sam, he’s being mean.”

“...”

“Cas?”

“Is this behavior typical of human children?”

“Honestly? He’s a carbon copy of Sam.”

“Dean.”

“Alright, alright. Chick flick back in session.”

“I’m...Sam, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize what I was saying. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, totally good, thanks. Just needed a breather.”

“Good. Um, look. I think...I think we just need to get used to each other. This is new for both of us and neither of us are exactly role models for mental health or healthy habits. And mostly everything I know about you is from that Journal. I haven’t given you a real chance since then. Maybe if we just...sit around and relax and exchange Get-To-Know-You questionnaires, so to speak… I don’t know, maybe it would help.”

“Learn to be in each other’s space a little bit. Yeah, that makes sense.”

“...”

“We done here?”

  
  
  


Jack sat halfway up the stairwell, his long legs pushed up close to his chest, as he often was. It was a nice spot. He could see Sam and Dean’s rooms, the entrance to the library, the kitchen. Sam’s laptop was folded shut and pressed over the tops of his legs, the glittery sounds of Disney silenced. A set of earbuds curled in his right fist. Jack lay his head against the Spanish iron work of the railings. A smile twitched to his tired lips as he felt Mary’s steps whisper through the floor and through the air. 

As Mary passed by him, undismayed at his choice of perch, Jack grabbed her hand and tilted his chin up. Her eyes were kind.

“Hey there, Jack.” Mary tightened her fingers where they were intertwined with Jack’s. Jack reached up his right hand wordlessly. Mary smiled and delicately took a rubber-band-bound stack of multicolored cards from him. “Now, what’s this?”

“Sam taught me to play it. It’s called Uno!”

The woman’s eyes lit up in vague recognition. “Oh, now, Cas has warned me about this game. Apparently, it prompted a three-week prank war?”

A grin broke out over Jack’s face and Mary sat next to him on the steps. “It was awesome! Sam showed me where to get ghost peppers and how to sneak them into Dean’s food without the smell giving it away. Then Dean thought Cas did it and had me help him to button his trenchcoat while he was napping and superglue all the buttons together. That time, Cas knew it was Dean, but I think he was too freaked to try to get him back and I felt sort of bad for him, so I convinced Sam that we needed to get back at Dean on his be–be–beheave–”

“Behalf,” Mary supplied, eyes filled with mirth at his learning curve.

“Yeah, that.”

“So what did you guys do?”

“We made copies of all of Dean’s cassette tapes–” And Dean had made absolutely sure that Jack knew what those were, “Wait, not copies. It was like what shifters do…? The tapes looked the same and we copied down the  _ labels _ that Dean wrote on all of them, but then we put a bunch of different songs on them and switched them out with Dean’s real tapes.”

Mary gave a gasping laugh. “Which songs?”

“A bunch of really loud Mexican music, some Italian opera, the theme song for the So–Soviet Union–”

“Theme song? Do you mean anthem?”

Jack frowned. “Maybe. I don’t know that word. I just heard it a lot when I was watching history videos with Sam about Old Russia. Anyways. Uno is really fun. But please don’t start a prank war.”

Mary giggled. “What? I thought it sounded like fun! Wait, did you get pranked?”

Jack nodded solemnly. “Dean put toothpaste in the Oreos. And Sam put wasabi on my sandwich instead of avocado. And Cas bought me this little pumpkin pie but it was  _ definitely _ not pumpkin pie. Sam called it...Um…” Jack squeezed his eyes. “It’s the stuff you dip vegetables and chips in.”

Mary’s face blanched. “Hummus.”

“That’s it! Yeah, I took a huge bite and I was thinking it would be all sweet and then it tasted like  _ that _ and I just let it fall out of my mouth onto my shirt. Everyone else thought it was really funny. I was scared to take food from them for months.”

With a rush of affection, Mary wrapped her right arm around Jack’s shoulders and cradled the side of his head with her hand. She pulled him towards her and stretched to kiss the top of his head. “Okay, sweetie, I’ll try to avoid a prank war, but I make no promises. But! If I do accidentally start a prank war, you and I are on a team.”

Jack grinned wickedly. “We’ll show those smarmy dicks!” And there was something so fondly familiar about those words as they spilled from his lips.

  
  
  
  


Three days later, Jack and Mary his under the bed in Jack’s room, hands over their mouths as the men audibly tore through the bunker.

“Dammit, Cas, they put googly eyes on everything in the fridge!”

_ Thunk.  _ “Oh no. Dean, there’s air horns behind every door. We have to find Sam and warn him–” A high-pitched wail echoed through the bunker. Hurried footsteps slammed over the concrete floors, and Sam’s distant voice bounced on the walls.

“Dean, don’t freak out.”

“Nuh-uh. What did they do?”

“It’s the car, they–”

“Oh,  _ hell _ no–”

“–covered in pictures of Nicholas Cage.”

“...What the hell?”

“It’s an...Internet thing.”

“...”

“I am deeply familiar with every culture on Earth, technological cultures included.”

“I thought you hated computers.”

“They cannot be trusted and we must understand everything that poses a potential threat. Nicholas Cage is some sort of phenomena. Jack probably learned of it through his endeavors to research humanity.”

“Sam, we’re turning on parental controls.”

“We already have them on, Dean.”

“Only to block porn. I don’t want our kid accessing crap that inspires him to damage Baby!”

“Oh my gosh, Dean. It’s tape. The Impala will be just fine.”

“Tape leaves residue! Dammit, Cas, where are you on tracking them?”

“I can’t. I believe that Jack has put up some sort of block. I can’t sense him or Mary.”

Jack smothered a giggle with his hand, his eyes laughing.

“When do we come out?” he whispered. Mary shook her head.

“Not for at least another hour, or Dean will eat us alive.”

“But I’m gonna get bored!”

_ “Gotcha!” _ Jack looked up and flinched wildly when he saw Sam leaned down to peak under the bed, giving him the stink-eye. “I found them!” he called. “You know, this is one hell of a retaliation.”

Mary smiled innocently. “Sam? You put pink dye in my conditioner. That’s an act of war, honey, and you know it.”

Sam grimaced and his gaze went hard as he finally accepted the consequences of his actions. Dean and Cas frantically pounded their way towards Jack’s room before halting suddenly at the doorframe, out of breath,. “Well, then. You have your team. I have mine. I hope you know what you’ve started.”

“You started it. We’re going to finish it.”

Mary’s heart fluttered at the childish excitement flowing between herself and her son. This was everything she could have dreamed of.

  
  
  
  


Sam was overwhelmed with gratitude. This was right in front of him. Mom loved him. They were playing with each other and joking and interacting, barely stilted anymore. The change was so quick. Less than twenty-four hours and it was like Mom knew Sam inside out. He would be surprised, but, well, she  _ was _ his mother, afterall. It was good and right in front of him and so solid is was almost tangible. It was right in front of him, no tricks.

_ This is real. _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, yeah, I should be working on my other stuff. But this seemed fun. Let me know what you think! It's been a hot minute since I've written my boys!


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